On The One Girl I Loved Before

Danger, here lies, where love dies

I can't say sorry enough to you,

For pulling up a charade of painful words,

To push you away,

Yet I wanted you by me,

Locked by my side,

I did done outdo myself,

I did done expect a little bit too much,

That this heaven would stay,

And it wouldn't fade,

That I'd kiss you every morning,

And every night,

Like I did on that bus,

Since it was late at night,

And we were both way too high,

From this cup of love that we partook,

But, oh well,

Perhaps this is karma,

For all the souls I was unable to love back.

I had a huge billboard written,

"Danger, here lies, where love dies"

But I guess love really is blind.

So here I am.

Blinded my own demons,

Afraid to tell you how I feel,

Afraid to show you how my heart beats,

Each time you showed up,

In that pretty dress

That you always said made you naked,

And you had to pull up your bra,

Each time,

I am afraid to tell you of how pretty your afro,

Encompasses your crowned head,

And your glow,

But I am afraid of the hurt,

I am afraid of the pain that comes along with,

Falling in love,

Because at one point,

We'll wish we rather fell in reverse,

And I am unable to put it in verse.

Afraid that every time we kiss I leave a fragment of my soul with you.

I leave my will to live,

And I leave a piece of me,

In hope to complete the puzzle,

As incomplete as that would make me,

Sometimes, I'm unable to accept

That you're the person we click with the most,

But I have to let it mean nothing,

Because I kill everything am good at.

I kill it on stage,

I kill it with my friends,

I kill it with my audience,

I pierce their worlds,

With my sadistic thoughts,

I am yet afraid that we both have knives,

But are we ready to stick them to each other's hearts,

Wishing for the chocolate kind of love,

To flow?

Are we really ready?

But anyway,

We are just two strangers on a train,

And the booth I'm in,

Might blow in the next stop,

I'm running from myself

And you actually have places to be.

I'm just a stop.

A weird flower that gets plucked and adored till it becomes tiring to the eye.

These feelings feel like a beautiful prologue to a holocaust of emotions,

So before I dip both feet into your ocean,

Give me a map back to the sorry excuse that is I,

And show me how to tame your sea monsters.

Or tell me that of all the things we agree on,

This sinister possibility of love is one of them.


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